


Serving Under You

by AngelinaVansen (catherineflowers)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, F/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 01:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14801832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catherineflowers/pseuds/AngelinaVansen
Summary: Set sometime during the early first season. Janeway and Chakotay become lovers for a week.





	Serving Under You

**Author's Note:**

> Written in the early 2000s and was originally my entry for the 4th Blue Alert competition's New Stories category.

**Monday**

After the smile he gives me, I invite him to dinner in my quarters. This handsome man. This devilishly grinning, wildly gorgeous man. This man I barely know. The man I am not engaged to. 

A few weeks ago, this man was my prey. I say it like that and it sounds romantic still, but that's exactly what he was. I was on a mission to bring this man to justice. I left my home and my husband-to-be, donned my uniform and took my ship, and went out into space to capture this man.

Now this man is my First Officer. Talk about keeping your enemies close. He is on my bridge, sitting at my left hand, and we are far from home. Far from Mark. 

I've thought that a lot, these past few weeks. He is FAR from Mark. He is dark where Mark is fair, wild where he is restrained, naughty where he is responsible. My belly quakes when this man smiles at me. 

This is the man I have invited to dinner tonight. 

As I bathe before the meal, I practice his name. So I get the inflection right. Cha-ko-tay. Cha-ko-tay. Chakotay. A little like gasping, a little like stuttering. I soap my legs, and shave them close, so they are smooth to the touch.

He comes to me sure of himself, out of uniform. Brings a bottle, and some PADDs, in case he has misunderstood my intentions. He hasn't. I must be mad. I am brave though, because I haven't even put Mark's photo away. Maybe I just don't care. Maybe we are just too damn far away.

I seat Chakotay at my table. As I turn to the replicator, I catch him looking at my hair.

We eat the first course, and our breathing is heavy. When our eyes meet, even by accident, both of us smile. His spreads across his face like a creeping river, knowledge and conquest. Mine is silly, goofy. The skin on my face is burning.

As I pass the dessert, his hand covers mine on the rim of the plate. His hands feel big and skilful. I have watched them on consoles and on the helm and imagined them holding weapons. They are powerful. I have thought the thumbs alone could split me in two. 

Our eyes stay locked and heated. Protocol doesn't seem to apply. My brain keeps telling me he's my First Officer, my goddamn First Officer, but my body knows that he's not. 

Cavit ... Cavit was Voyager's first officer. A model officer. The perfect choice. Fair like Mark, restrained like Mark, responsible like Mark. Faithful like Mark, right to the end, right to the moment that we entered this godforsaken quadrant, and Chakotay took his place.

No, oh God, oh sweet merciful God, Chakotay's not my First Officer at all.

We smile at each other in that slow, hot way we do on the bridge, and he moves in on me. His thigh is warm through his pants on my thigh. He takes the glass of wine from my hand. His breath is hot and blows across my lips. He doesn't hesitate. I wonder briefly how many other commanding officers he has taken to bed. He seems to know what he is doing.

His mouth covers mine, sucking my lips and the breath from inside me. His lips are soft and full, and his tongue is hungry, going straight, deep inside my mouth. Thrusting. I grab his head and hold it against my mouth. Fistfuls of his hair. His hands are on my buttocks, under my skirt. I spread for him immediately, lifting up to wrap my bare legs over his hips.

Drinking his tongue, my heart pounding in my chest. His hands are in my hair, pulling at the pins, knotting it into his fingers as he cradles my head close to his.

He is wild with my clothes, grinning maniacally as he pants in my face. I am grinning too, my face on fire. Dripping wet already in my panties. I'd have been embarrassed being this wet in front of Mark. So quickly. Chakotay grabs me and feels me, hard, two hard fingers slipping into my underwear, into me.

I hear my voice, panting for God.

His voice moans my name, my given name, against my neck. It is the first time I've heard it from another's mouth since Deep Space Nine. It sounds so much fuller and richer wrapped around his tongue than Mark's. Disobedient and reverent all at once.

Insubordinate. His fingers on his Captain's G-spot, his mouth and his words and his breath on her nipple. His teeth, biting as hard as she can stand and then harder. This isn't her, though, this is me.

We are in my bed, falling back on the pillows and the sheets. Freeing each other's naked skin from clothes, pressing it all together, over and over. Rubbing. Sliding. That name coming from my mouth, over and over. Cha-ko-tay, Cha-ko-tay ... rhythmic and purposeful, just as he is.

That mouth, firm and soft together, is back on my breast. Biting and then licking the bite better, over and over again.

When he moves above me to complete the act of joining, his belly feels beautiful against mine. I notice that. He caresses my legs from my thighs to my knees as he seeks inside me with his penis. His eyes aren't clouded with pleasure but livened by it.

His mouth falls open as he slides inside my body. 

He holds still in the peach light of my bedroom, hands tight on the pale sheets beside my body. My fingers on his arms, up and down, over each tight muscle. He is inside my body. I hold him, we are still.

In this moment, he is perfect. A man created to be a lover, to hold a woman in his sweet embrace.

He tumbles in to kiss my mouth, and I am caught again. I barely notice we are thrusting, rising and falling on each other, warmth and wetness spreading out across my thighs. I cling to him. His hands are in my hair.

I am on top, peaking and crying. So good, so strong. His mouth on mine, catching my lips, tasting each of my cries, answering them with kisses. Nuzzling my chin as my head falls back helplessly. Breathing over my forehead as I come down panting. He wants to take care of me.

Helpless too, he comes inside me, so vulnerable and powerful all at once in his pleasure. I hold my lips against his lips and brush slowly as he groans his release.

Over so quickly. He can't have been inside me more than ninety seconds, and both of us went straight to our climaxes. Both of us pant and tremble in each other's arms.

He rolls his fingers lazily in the slight sweat on my back, still moaning softly with his eyes closed. I sit up on him, sliding easily over his warm skin, and we smile together, not saying anything. Still joined. What to say. What can I say?

I go to the replicator and blow some rations on some whiskey.

I move across the room, realising that I don't feel sore or delicate at all. That usual just-fucked feeling is most definitely absent, despite Chakotay's size. How curious. 

We sit and drink in bed together, legs against one another's under the sheets. This is a strange feeling, I decide, but one I want to explore. Sex like that just can't be ignored. 

Later, to satiate my curiosity, we make love twice more, and then he goes home.

 

**Tuesday**

I have work to catch up on after last night. Reports that will be late for the first time ever.

I wear nice underwear though, under my uniform. Non-regulation, black silk with lace edges. Chakotay gives me a huge, shit-eating grin as I enter the bridge. He's hardly discreet.

As I sit down in my chair, I grin right back at him. I can't help myself, that smile of his is infectious. It makes me feel naughty and warm and desirable all at once.

His eyes are possessive as they rake across my body. Telling me he knows exactly what I look like naked. His smile tells me he likes that thought very much.

I know how he feels. My hand can still conjure up the feeling of his cock across my palm. My mouth remembers its yeasty taste. My thighs remember how it feels to hold him close. I can picture each one of his muscles, each hair, each shade of his glowing skin.

Across the space between our chairs, I notice that his breathing is heavy, and is in rhythm with mine.

I last ten minutes. Then I get up and summon him with me, into my Ready Room. As I walk across the bridge I wonder if anyone suspects. Would I be conferencing with Cavit this early? Would this be the norm?

Well, I have certainly shocked him. He is not expecting it when I step into his arms and press my lips against his. He was expecting a meeting, a discussion of some sort. He was expecting Kathryn Janeway to be all business, all Starfleet. How little he knows her.

He turns me round and thrusts me up against my desk, bends me forward across it. Palm against my back and pushing, the other hand taking handfuls of my butt. Right through the uniform. I wonder if that turns him on. I look at my hands as he turns me on.

He grabs my breasts next through the uniform and thrusts against me, panting a little, muttering about how sexy I am. Then he yanks my trousers down about my thighs and feels my panties, all across the silk and lace. Feeling how wet I am. Makes me moan a little.

Then he starts rubbing me, right through my panties, until my breath comes in short little explosions and my hips start thrusting hard against the desk. He makes me come, very quickly.

I turn to him, flushed and moist. He is gazing at me with a dreamy expression on his face, one hand petting his erect cock through his pants. I go to him and work on all the fastenings of his trousers to get my hand in there.

He moans gently straight away, and his hips pump in a counter-rhythm to my hand, back and forth. I stare down his pants and watch the unreal sight of my hand on my First Officer's penis. I listen to his breathing growing desperate and wheezy. 

Silently, in gasps and sighs, he splashes my desk with his come. I catch some with my fingers. Not because I want to taste it, but because I want to feel it, warm and full of this beautiful man's life. I'm feeling quite profound.

His smile is full of chagrin as he does his pants back up and cleans my desk. I don't move. I'm not sure what's happening to me. 

He kisses me with that same, rueful grin, and then leaves me to compose myself. Eventually, I wipe my hand, and then I do have to sit at my desk and finish my reports.

 

**Wednesday**

Today, Chakotay and I meet for lunch. We eat Neelix's food in the Mess Hall, and we sit respectfully across from one another. He calls me Captain, and I call him Commander.

We did not make love last night. He did the late shift and I was on for the early, so our schedules made it impossible. Instead I came to the touch of my own hand in my bathtub, arching from the water to augment the fantasy I was having of him. Not a wild one, just us in my bed, in my quarters, making love. This is still new enough for that to remain an exciting concept.

He is making notes on a PADD. Genuine notes, or an allusion to a working lunch, I am unsure. Occasionally, his leg will brush mine. Occasionally, he will smile a little. 

Eventually, he excuses himself and explains that he needs to consult with Lieutenant Torres about one of his reports. I let him go, and then sit and drink my coffee thoughtfully.

Around sixty seconds after he has left, my PADD bleeps discreetly. I look at it, and there is a message from Chakotay.

"Come to my quarters"

it says. That is all. It's an instruction, almost an order. No invitations, no questions. Clear your schedule, Captain. 

He knows I will obey. He knows I have an afternoon to spend astride his penis. I don't even finish my coffee. I go straight for the turbolift.

He is there, waiting for me, his need naked on his face and prominent in his groin. I gasp out for God as I fall into his arms.

We are all over each other. Lips on fire, fingers digging and clutching each other. I am so glad to be in his arms, never so happy, never wanting anything so much. I want this feeling to overtake me right now. I want to be swept away with it, away from the ship and its crew, away from Starfleet and all the reasons why falling in love with Chakotay is just so wrong.

For one afternoon, I want to pretend that this hasn't got to stop.

We fall into his bed and he pulls me on top, easing my clothes off as I kiss all over his face. They are soft, breathy kisses done with gentle lips. Several of them sweep across the bold lines of his tattoo. One for each soulful eye with its dark soft lashes. One for his sweet, off-centre nose. A long one for his full plump mouth, with a deep suck of his tongue against mine.

He pulls at the pins in my hair and frees it all into his questing hands even as we kiss. Moans into it about how beautiful it all is. Presses his nose to my scalp for the scent of my shampoo and kisses and kisses. Into the hollow of my neck with those lips, murmuring against my skin.

I sigh along with him. I can't help it. Just the musk of his skin, so close to my nose, is overwhelming me. The movement of his chest as he breathes, the sound of him breathing my name over and over.

My body blurs against his, my skin is warm and soft and melting as he turns me onto my back to bury his face against my breasts and belly. Over and over again, he kisses the same spots, almost worshipping. He doesn't use his tongue, only his lips, only his eyes to concentrate on each and every pore of my skin. 

The velvet of his lips around my bellybutton, the sharp bite of his white teeth on my nipple, the gasp of his love in my ear. I am lost, so lost. I can hardly believe my own voice as I sigh and moan and promise him that I love him too.

He enters me and rises above me like a wave. For a moment it is a little too much. I feel him about to crest over me. Then he is a wild horse, running away with me. A storm about to envelop me. 

It seems appropriate that I should be reminded of natural phenomena by Chakotay. So much of him seems fresh and free.

I hold his arms and rise up beneath him, my whole body tight and flying all at once. My voice crying with a force not entirely appropriate for this time of the afternoon. No one wants to hear their Captain crying out.

Tears squeeze out from his eyes with the force of his orgasm. He chokes and cries and laughs all at once. Filling me. This is amazing. Amazing. This, I think, this is how love should be.

Afterwards, in our usual trembling aftermath, he holds me across his chest with my hair across his pillow. His fingertips travel up and down my spine, playing in the beads of sweat.

He tells me how incredible it was. His mouth can barely form the words, and he strokes my face and gazes into my eyes as he says it. 

He tells me how he has never known a woman like me. That he has never had such powerful feelings. He tells me he is not sorry that we are in the Delta Quadrant, that we will most likely be here for the rest of our lives.

He tells me he belongs with me. I am his place in the universe.

We lie together for an hour, our eyes locked, just stroking. I tell him all the same things, even though I am not glad we are lost so far from home. I miss my mother too much, and my home and dogs as well. I clearly don't miss Mark so much, but I miss the certainty, the control. Being with Chakotay scares me just a little bit too much I think.

When we are out of declarations, we make love again, and end up staying in bed for the rest of the day. We eat together in my quarters, and Chakotay stays the night.

 

**Thursday**

I wake up spooned in Chakotay's arms. A little cold without the sheets and naked. Sticky everywhere. My hair is tangled and knotted from being loose all night, wrapped about his fingers.

Things are different as we eat our breakfast. Somehow I feel bruised. His eyes are hurting me, looking at me. They aren't so full of fun any more. He isn't looking at my body. He wants eye-contact.

All I want is to be home. So much I'm sick with it. I have days like this sometimes. I miss my life so much. All I want is to be home in bed today, Molly sleeping on my legs. Sipping coffee from the cream cups of my dinner service. Listening to some music on the subspace radio from Betazed. Just the voices of the DJs ... so familiar, so far away, so goddamn far away right now.

We put our uniforms on together in the bathroom. Secretly watching each other in the mirror. How much I want to fall into this man's arms. Let him hold me and pretend he can take all this pain away, that he can make it enough for me to live my life here in this quadrant.

How can I do that? How can I let myself when there are 150 men and women who ache for their home as much as I do? I need to focus on getting them home, and falling in love with Chakotay will anchor me here.

Eventually, he cannot take the impasse. He takes my hand in his and kisses it, all across the back of my knuckles, soft pressings of his lips that light my blood on fire. His eyes watch mine.

Slowly he draws me in, wrapping his warm arms around my waist and tipping my chin up to his with a soft finger. His tongue in my mouth, his hands on my breasts, holding me, clasping me to him. He is so incredibly beautiful.

I do not resist him, and he makes me naked. Sits me on the sink and wraps my legs around his waist, panting declarations into my mouth. Mine tumble out of me, even as I'm crying, even as the tears run my make-up down my face. I taste the bitterness of my mascara as it runs into our kiss, ruining it.

It is as fast and overwhelming as ever. He plunges into me and I am coming, taken over by it. Gasping so hard I get a pain in my chest, sobbing and crying and clinging to him. We hold each other tight and cry together, and I am filled with his seed.

Afterwards, when we have washed ourselves and dressed again, already late, he speaks softly to me, in that mesmerising voice. He asks me if we were home, if Voyager weren't a consideration, would I be with him?

The tears sting my eyes again, and I can't look at him. In the end, when I can speak, I tell him no. If we were home, there would be a whole other set of considerations. I think they would hold us apart even more.

 

**Friday**

This morning on the bridge, he can hardly look at me. I feel sick. Last night he came to me. Rang the chime on my door and I hid from him. It was probably obvious. The computer can easily confirm my location. He tried three times, and then went away.

I sobbed in my bath for almost two hours, desperate for him to come back, but he didn't. He didn't call me. He didn't send me any messages.

When I woke this morning, my hair was glossy and it wasn't tangled up at all. I wasn't sticky or naked, and no one was holding me. I thought of Mark a little, too. I thought of home a lot. I was determined to get there.

All morning, Chakotay squirms in his seat. Looking miserable. He's a man who wears his heart on his sleeve, and I worry that the others notice.

Mid-morning, just before lunch, he sends a note to my console.

"I love you, Kathryn"

it says simply. I glance at him, and his eyes are burning with his hope. His lips are slightly parted, his expression overcome with his wanting.

I send one back.

"This has to stop"

I send. Then, after a moment,

"Please".

It stops. He doesn't send any more messages, and he doesn't really look at me all day.

He's friendly in the Mess Hall later, but he doesn't try the doorbell on my quarters. 

I sit up in my bed reading starcharts, reading my reports.


End file.
